When the Line is Crossed
by eirian2
Summary: Sherlock crosses the line for the final time. Molly has had enough. One shot. Rated T for some swearing.


**I own nothing...I just worship at the shrine of The Moff and The Gat...**

A little plot bunny that was running round my mind this morning.

**When the Line is Crossed.**

He had finally done it, after years of getting close...he had finally done what no one had thought possible.

He had finally crossed the line.

He had pissed Molly off for the last time.

Molly was beyond angry...

The Previous Evening:

Molly had been sitting in a nice restaurant in Golders Green with a Doctor. A Date. A second date. With a very nice Doctor. She was enjoying herself, she wasn't blushing or stuttering. She wasn't a blithering idiot. She wasn't making a fool of herself. She was just being Molly. And it was nice.

His name was Jonathan "but call me Jonty". He was from Bath, never married, no children and was from a good solid middle class family. He made Molly feel special. He listened to her. He didn't interrupt.

He wasn't Sherlock.

And that was good. Molly was moving on, finally realising her crush on the Consulting Detective was never ever going to be reciprocated, she had closed the lid on those feelings and consigned them to a distant part of her psyche, never to be revisited. She hoped.

But she should have guessed that Sherlock would always have the last word. Even if it was as he disappeared round the door of her Lab.

Her phone beeped in her handbag. She ignored it.

"Do you want to get that?" Jonty nodded towards her bag, hanging off the back of her chair.

"No, it's ok."

It beeped again.

Then again.

"Are you sure, it might be important?"

Molly sighed "It's probably work, someone ringing in sick and they want cover, so I suppose I'd better." She shrugged, and fished the offending item from her bag. She read the first text.

_Need you now. SH_

The Second: _Where are you? SH_

The Third: _Vitally important, matter of life and death. SH_

As she closed her eyes briefly, the phone beeped again.

_Molly, don't be difficult. Need you NOW SH_

Then again.

_Molly, don't make me come and fetch you. SH._

Molly slid the phone into her bag and picked up her wine. "Sorry about that."

"Work?"

"Sort of...no...no not work...just...someone..." Molly tried to smile.

"Important someone?" Jonty's eyes crinkled as he smiled at her.

Before Molly could reply her phone beeped again. She sighed and stood up "Will you excuse me a moment?"

She stood in the ladies' loo and fumed at the man that even halfway across London could annoy and disrupt her life. After splashing some water on her face, she returned to the table.

"Your phone has pinged another three times since you've been gone. Maybe you should reply?"

The offending item beeped again.

"That's ten texts in as many minutes, sounds important." He smiled but she could see that there was a tension round his eyes that hadn't been there before. Molly kicked herself for not switched the bloody thing off before her date had started.

Molly pulled out the phone and glared at it.

_I am not used to being ignored. SH_

_What part of 'life and death' don't you understand. SH_

_Molly, I need you now. SH_

_AM IN CAB OUTSIDE. SH_

_NOW MOLLY. SH_

Molly sighed and put down the phone, Jonty quickly scanned the text out of the corner of his eye and looked back up to Molly.

"I thought you said you were single, Molly?"

"I am, honestly"

"Those don't look like the texts of a single woman, those look like texts from an angry boyfriend."

"He's not my...I'm not...anything to him..." Molly could feel herself slipping back into Mousey Molly Mode. "He's just..." she was interrupted by a looming Sherlock appearing at the side of the table.

"Molly I do NOT appreciate being ignored, I have sent you a number of texts requesting your immediate attention and you have failed to respond to a single one."

"Sherlock, I am on a date"

"What? Why? I need you Molly, you forget that you are mine."

With this Jonty stood "I'm sorry Molly, I should go, I just wish you had been honest with me about...well about...this."

Molly watched him leave, a feeling of utter loneliness filled her, despite the crowded restaurant.

"Molly I have a cab waiting." Sherlock was already at the door.

Molly sat at the table and slowly sipped her wine; she could see Sherlock sitting in the cab. By his body language she could see he was fuming. She smiled slowly.

Let the bloody insufferable interfering pompous arrogant arse wait. Molly thought up more and more words to describe Sherlock as she sat there. She topped her wine glass up.

Lanky...that was good.

Pig headed...yep...that would do.

Petulant...again...yep

Childish...definitely.

Annoying...

Prick...

Egotistical...

Irritating...

Exasperating...

Conceited...

Centre of the sodding universe...because he thinks the sun shines out of his arse.

She giggled at the memory of John telling her that Sherlock had admitted not knowing that the earth went round the sun.

Dick...

She finished her wine and signalled for the bill. She glanced out of the window and saw that the cab and Sherlock had gone. She smiled.

Twat...yes...that summed up Sherlock Holmes perfectly...utter fucking twat.

The Present.

Sherlock strode into the morgue, expecting an apology from Molly for her unbelievably petulant and childish behaviour from the previous evening.

The morgue was empty.

As he would have to wait for his apology until Molly returned, he decided to check up on some of the experiments he had running in the lab. Several of them were long term experiments that had been running for months if not years and Sherlock considered them to be part of his life's work. Something he could leave to science when he shuffled off this mortal coil.

He swiftly moved over to 'his' section of Molly's lab.

And equally swiftly came to an abrupt halt.

The lab bench was bare...

Empty.

Bereft of any cultures, phials, test tubes and the rest of the detritus of his experiments.

Gone.

Everything.

He looked round the lab in bewilderment.

Had they been moved for a reason..._it had better be a good reason._

No.

Nothing.

All of his experiments were gone.

The he noticed a pink post it note on the bench.

He looked at it.

Pink post it notes offended him. Must be one of Molly's he deduced.

He read it.

Then he read it again.

And again.

It said. In very nicely printed capitals.

"Fuck You and Fuck your Experiments Sherlock Holmes. MH"

He looked between the lab bench and the note and finally towards the large yellow contaminated waste bin in the corner.

She wouldn't.

She...would she...why would she?

Sherlock slowly opened the lid of the bin with more caution than he had ever displayed before.

He wasn't disappointed.

There in a putrid mess in the bin were all his experiments. Destroyed beyond all redemption.

He slammed the lid shut.

"MOOOLLLLLLLLLYYYYYYYYYYYYYY" he screamed into the empty room.

Molly sat in the cleaner's cupboard and smiled.

Revenge served hot or cold was most rewarding.

**The End**

**Thanks for Reading!**


End file.
